Faces in the Flames
by Derwent Shrimpling
Summary: After a fire at the Muggle orphanage, Tobias' life is severely changed for the worse. Not only is he a wizard, he is four years behind on study, disabled, and struggling with his feelings of resentment for his deceased father, Severus. And the Room of Requirement certainly isn't helping matters.
1. The Torch With No Battery

Fire and Water

If any passerby had been on the street that night, they would have seen the light that flashed on and off. But they weren't. Tobias would have known if they were.

On. Off. The letters on the page flickered in and out of his vision. 'Come on..' Toby whispered under the blankets. 'Work, you stupid thing...' the torch spluttered one last time and went out again. He laid back and collapsed onto the bed. He closed his eyes. Brilliant. The last page of his favourite book. He'd have to wait till morning to find out what happened. Although, he could always find out before. The building's walls were thin, and even if they hadn't been, he could have found out anyway. Nothing could escape his gaze. No-one. Nobody. Nothing. He even knew what animals were thinking. He opened his eyes again. Better not to spoil the surprise.

He dragged his feet out of bed, followed by the rest of him. Fifteen year's worth of clutter carpeted the floor. Most were books, or newspaper articles. A few trinkets. Taken, used, and discarded moments later. Even though he remembered it all he couldn't bear to throw any of it away. School was easy. A few seconds talking to the teacher before lessons and he knew as much as they did.

Toby crossed to the desk beside the fireplace, where a cracked, stained mirror reflected his own face back at him. A gaunt face. A pale face. Framed by waves of dark hair, curled and greasy, like matted weeds. Heavily lidded eyes ringed by dark lashes blinked back at him. It was an attractive face, save for the hooked, beak-like nose occupying its centre. Years of friendless solitude had set its thin lips in a semi-permanent frown.

He glanced at the few possessions he had set aside among the refuse. An especially shiny pound coin. A barnacle-encrusted shell from a day at the beach. A photo. Unfolded and seldom touched. A sallow-faced, pointy nosed man in dark clothing stared back at him with disdain. He had the air of an academic, a doctor maybe. A note scrawled on the back in an untidy hand read; "Severus Snape. For Tobias. " Toby glanced at the picture again. Sometimes, he wondered if this man really was his father. If he had been, hadn't he come back yet? Why didn't anyone know anything about him? If there was one thing more annoying than ignorance, Tobias thought, it was other peoples' ignorance. He hesitated a moment. Then, so quietly he almost couldn't hear it himself, he whispered; 'Goodnight, dad." He rubbed his eyes. Had the photo just smirked at him? He looked again. It was as still and static as ever. Toby smiled. 'I'm tired,' he thought. 'Probably just seeing things.'

An audible "creak" sounded in the corridor outside. 'And hearing things.' he added. Another "creak". Then, ever so slowly, a longer "Cree-Ak." Footsteps.

Tobias closed his eyes and searched for memories. If someone was in the orphanage uninvited, he would know. There they were. Two of them. 'Strange...' They felt.. different. Different to the others. Snatches of memory and sound drifted in and out of Tobias' mind.

_Fire. All around. Screams. More fire. Two men stood at the front._

_"It is the quality of one's convictions that determines one's success, not the number of followers."_

_"Who said that?"_

_" I did." _

And suddenly, all at once, they disappeared.

A deep voice, a man's, thick with a London accent, sounded in the hallway outside his room. 'Did you just feel that?' Another, deeper still, and with reassuring, solid quality. 'Yes. Tread lightly.' A pause. The footsteps were about halfway down the corridor now and faster approaching. Tobias reached out his hand, as if for support, tried to focus on the fire, to get back into this stranger's mind- he stopped.

The fire had come to him. The room was on fire. It leaped from his mind into his fingertips and onto the desk. The flames spread, books bursting into a blaze, blackening the floor, the walls, even the roof. Tobias screamed. The sound rocketed around the room like a bullet, igniting everything it touched, sending the room into an inferno. Tobias' head was on fire as well, a searing heat, a voice-

_No one can know. _

-and then he was falling, falling, into a pair of strong arms. 'Get him out of here!'

If any passerby had been on the street that night, they would have seen the flames blaze green, and fold around the three figures, and Tobias Snape vanish from the room. But they weren't.


	2. Out Of The Frying Pan

Sickness And Health

The first thing Tobias felt when he woke up was pain. His head ached. He tried to open his eyes- but it was all a blur. And then a face swam into focus. And behind it, peeling wallpaper. Toby sat up.

He was lying under a quilt on a moth-eaten sofa in the centre of a darkened room, lit only by a dusted oil-lamp, and a pair of windows that revealed nothing but torrential rain. Thunder sounded in the distance. Standing in front of Tobias was a young man, probably about twenty, quite tall, reading a newspaper. He was dressed in a woollen robe of some sort, but it was badly worn from years of overuse. The man looked up from his newspaper. He swivelled in his chair to face the door at the other side of the room. As his back was turned, Toby noticed something that made his stomach lurch. The man's head was covered in scars. Deep-set, livid against the man's white skin.

'He's awake, Kingsley.' The sound made Tobias' head hurt. Whoever the man had been speaking to must have answered, because he turned back around, hiding the wounds. When he spoke, he spoke in the voice of the first stranger from the night before. 'I suppose this must come as a shock to you?' Toby remained silent. 'All of this.' Silent. The man sighed in exasperation. 'Look. I don't have to have this chat with you. I'm only doing this because Kingsley asked me to. If you want to carry on without knowing how to use magic properly-' Tobias turned his head sharply. 'Magic?' The man smirked. He couldn't work out if it was humorous or vindictive, or both. He closed his eyes. A few moments went by. A loud guffaw went through the air in the room. Tobias snapped his eyes open. The man was _laughing_. At _him_.

'Yeah, nice try, mate,' the man laughed. Tobias seethed. 'I don't understand.' ''Course you don't. You've been missing out. Five years, an' you can't even cast a proper spell? Blimey, Kings, I thought you said he was talented?' he kept on laughing.

'That's enough, Savage.' The door opened. Into the room stepped another man, older, vast, and wide, also bald, but where the other man was pale and slim, Kingsley was black and strong. 'The Ministry of Magic has seen fit to take you into its care. Our attempts to contact you failed, and your guardians seemed... unresponsive.' His voice was that of the second stranger. For one of the first times in his life, Tobias was puzzled. 'What's the Ministry of Magic?' Savage carried on laughing. 'The governing body, mate,' he said. 'Keeping order ones like you and me. Wizards.' It all made sense. The mind reading, the voices... the fire. There was a long pause where all three seemed to stare at the floor for a very long time. 'So where do I go from here? Do I live with you?' Both men were laughing now. Kingsley recovered first. 'No, no. You live here. Spinner's End. That's for only half the time, though. Mostly, you'll be going to school.' Tobias retched. 'School? I can't go back there! Not now! Not now all of,' he indicated with his hands, 'THIS, has happened!' Savage spoke. 'Not your old school. Wizard's school. Hogwarts. Term starts in a week. That's why we're here. To escort you to Diagon Alley, get everything you'll need for the year ahead, and leave you in the knowledge you'll most likely fail your O.W.L.S.,' he saw Tobias' face. 'Wizard exams.' Kingsley frowned. 'Leave him be, Savage.' He stood up, and turned to Tobias . 'Call us when you're ready to leave,' They made for the door. Kingsley spun on his heel, and pointed at the sofa where a cane leaned against the chair leg, along with a bundle of clothes. 'You'll need those.' He shut the door behind him, and the only noise in the room was the ticking of the clock and Tobias' heavy breathing. 'A walking stick?' Tobias wondered. 'Why on earth would I need that?' He flung the quilt off him, and stood up. He fell over. He looked down. Then he realised. The walking stick was for walking. He needed it to walk. His left leg was covered in withered flesh, blackened skin covered it from knee to ankle. It didn't appear burnt though. If it had been damaged in the fire, Toby supposed, then they must have used some kind of magic to repair it. Fresh tears stung Tobias' eyes, but he brushed them off. He dressed hurriedly in the oversized robes they'd provided for him, then picked up the cane resentfully. He was about to make for the door, when he decided to look around first. He hobbled over to the bookcase, leaning on the stick for support. Each step was agony. He browsed the small library of books in front of him. Most had titles like: "_The Many Applications of Wolfsbane in Traditional Potion-Making", _or, "_The Dark Arts: Then and Now"_. He grabbed the latter, and skimmed through it, but it was full of strange pictures and words he had never seen before. Tobias glanced inside the cover. Inside was written, "Property of Severus Snape". Severus Snape.

This was his father's house. Toby took another glance outside, and saw nothing but rain. He started pacing, then realised it was impossible. He sank to the floor and leaned against the bookshelves. Nothing. That was all he knew of his father. Nothing. If he had been a wizard, if he had all _this_, why had he never taken care of his own son? His own flesh and blood abandoned him in a stinking orphanage, unloved and uncared for? Tobias felt anger burn inside him like a funeral pyre. And what of his mother? Why had she never turned up? Or didn't she care about him either? Pure, unadulterated loathing for both of them gripped his mind singularly. He glowered at the name in front of him. Severus Snape. Slithering Snake, more like. He flung it against the wall, and left the room, as the book sat smouldering into ash.

The walk through Spinner's End to the café wasn't a long one, but the rain made the air damp and cold in spite of the rising sun. The robe's hood, though, Tobias found, was waterproof, and he drew it over his face. The three hooded figures walked in silence, silhouetted bleakly against the pouring rain. When they reached it, neon signs buzzing feebly, Kingsley stopped him. 'What?' 'Given the circumstances,' he said, 'it would be better you remain anonymous. Keep your hood up.' the trio entered, and Savage ordered bacon sandwiches as the battered television in the corner regurgitated the weeks' news. When the sandwiches arrived, they were drenched in grease and swimming in enough tomato sauce to drown a small dog, but Tobias ate his nonetheless. The few diners that were awake at this early an hour gave them some strange looks, but kept themselves to themselves. Kingsley and Savage talked small about events at the Ministry, but Tobias remained silent until he heard the news broadcast. "..._Tobias Snape, fifteen years old, was pronounced dead in the late hours of yesterday evening. The fire started in an orphanage just outside London, and it is thought he fell victim to the blaze before the authorities could arrive. No body has yet been found. Our south-eastern correspondent..." _Tobias could have walked over to the television and smashed it into pieces. He clenched fists under the table as a picture of him flashed up on the screen, accompanied by more details of his supposed death. 'What,' he said through gritted teeth, 'Is that?' Savage looked up from his bacon. 'What's what?' Tobias indicated with a jerk of the head. 'that.' It took a moment before Savage realised what he meant. 'Oh,' he said. 'That's your cover story.' 'My cover story?!' So that was what Kingsley had meant. 'I'm not_ dead_!' 'Yeah, but that's what the Muggles think, innit?' 'Muggles? What's that supposed to mean?!' 'Keep your voice down! A Muggle's a person who isn't a Wizard.' '-And you and Kingsley didn't think to tell me this before?!' 'There's a lot you don't know,' Kingsley interjected 'All you need to do is just keep your head down and attend to your studies. If you can do that, you'll be fine,' A few of the Muggles started to get up. 'We're leaving.' Kingsley stood, and yanked Savage and Toby up by their shoulders. 'I 'aven't finished yet-' Savage protested. 'Take him to The Leaky Cauldron. Then bring him back here. If I haven't come back yet, handle the rest for me.' Kingsley walked off and, quite unabashed, entered the ladies' toilets. 'Where's he gone?' Toby hissed. Savage replied. 'To the Ministry.' 'What, and now you're telling me the Ministry of Magic is in the girls' toilets in a rubbish diner?' 'There are loads of ways in and out,' Savage said. ''undreds. Like 'e said. We're going.' He walked to the café door. 'Come on then,' he said. The two left.

It was a few minutes before Tobias realised where they were going. 'Hey, why are we going back...' (he struggled for a moment before he found a word, "home" didn't sound right in his mouth.)'There? I thought we were going to that ... Leaky Cauldron, or whatever?' 'Don't miss a trick do you?' Savage said. 'We are, idiot. Just by Floo. Not goin' to get all the way to London by broom are we? Yes, we can fly on brooms, by the way-' Toby sighed. 'You've got to be joking.' They had reached the house. Savage struggled with the door, then kicked it. 'Kingsley locked it. Any chance of a spell? Didn't think so...' He started foraging around on the ground until he found what he was looking for. 'Aha.' Under the doormat was a small copper key. He put it into the lock and turned it. Savage walked straight into the main room. 'Close the door behind you. And get some Floo powder!' Toby shoved the door closed. 'What?' 'In the cupboard!' Under the stairs was a tiny broom cupboard. Inside it was a rickety shelf and a bucket along with a mop. Tobias smirked to himself. 'Flying brooms...' a shout came from the other room. 'Oi!' 'I'm doing it, I'm doing it...' a small, dented tin lay on the shelf. Inside was a silvery green powder that glinted like ground glass. He picked it up and ran into the next room. 'Is this it?'

He was surprised to see that Savage was, for the second time that morning, crawling on his hands and knees. This time, he was fiddling with a box of matches beside the fireplace, trying to get a fire going. 'What are you doing that for?' Tobias asked. Savage licked his lips in concentration as he snapped another match in half. 'Hm... fire. For the Floo.' 'I don't see how...' just as Tobias spoke, the spark caught and the fire took hold. Savage held out his hand. 'Get me something. For fuel.' Tobias cursed and looked around for something to use. He picked up the book he had thrown aside, and rifled through to the back cover. "Property of Severus Snape". He handed it to Savage without hesitation. 'Now the powder.' Tobias handed him the tin. Savage took a small handful, weighing it carefully, then cast it over the flames. The warm glow shrank back for a moment, then burst outwards, filling the fireplace with suddenly emerald flames. Savage set the tin on the mantelpiece.

'Now,' he said. 'Do exactly as I say. When you use the Floo Network, you've got to tell it where you want to go, right? Only you got to speak clearly, or you'll get jumbled up and arrive in loads of places at once. We need to get to Diagon Alley, so you got to say that just as you step in.' Tobias crossed his arms. 'What do you mean, "step in"?' Savage turned to the fireplace, and said, out loud. 'Diagon Alley!' He then walked right into the fire. The flames folded around him and then receded, now slightly smaller than they had been. Tobias looked around, as if expecting to see someone else in the room. He was alone. He sighed in frustration. 'Oh, fine then,' and in a slightly sarcastic voice, mimicked, '"Diagon Alley"' and stepped into the fire.


	3. The Leaky Cauldron

The Leaky Cauldron

As soon as Tobias stepped into the fireplace, he regretted it. His surroundings went pitch black, and he suddenly found himself spinning, he shut his eyes tightly, but that just made him feel worse. Snatches of sound came from the shadows around him, the sound of feet walking past a mantelpiece, the sound of lighting gas, the sound of a match being struck. When Toby heard the last one, he immediately remembered Savage lighting the fire. Why hadn't he done it by magic, if he was a Wizard? Was he Wizard? Tobias started to feel unsure. Was it all some sick joke Savage and Kingsley had played on him? Tobias tried to open his eyes, but there was ash in his face, and he was spinning faster and faster-

And then he stopped. He had hit something. He looked up, and found himself on the floor, covered in ashes, staring directly into the face of a kindly-looking woman about thirty years old. On closer inspection, the room was full of people, and, by the way they were dressed, seemed all to be Wizards or Witches. Tobias scrambled to pull his hood over his face, but the woman merely held out her hand, as if to help him up. He ignored it. He didn't want to make a fool of himself any more than he already had. The Witch shuffled off behind the counter with a short 'hmph' in annoyance. It was a pub. So _this _was The Leaky Cauldron. How disappointing. It could have at least been well-decorated. The woman slammed a tray on the counter, and shouted upstairs; 'Neville! Are you listening? We've got another one!' She set to wiping the counter, and muttering intermittently, 'Honestly, the things I do for this place...' A few seconds later, there was a crash and a short 'Sorry, dear!' before a stout man in tweed and a pointed hat clattered down the stairs. 'Another Hogwarts student? Brilliant! Obviously, it's not your first time, just a few steps out the back...' WHOOSH! Another student had arrived via the fireplace, along with their parents. Tobias noted with distaste that they had made a much smoother exit. He turned back to the man, cutting him off before he had a chance to speak to them. 'Where did you say it was?' The man eyed him with an incredulous look. 'You're not having a laugh are you? Only my wife and I don't have time to answer stupid questions from Slytherins.' He turned back to the fireplace, where there was now a crowd of people trying to get out. Tobias would have stalked away, but the limp made it difficult. What an idiot. What even was a Slytherin anyway? Sounded like some kind of Wizarding insult. What was it the man had said? A few steps out the back. A door at the back of the room stood ajar. Tobias went out through it, glad to be rid of the muggy atmosphere. The 'back' of the pub seemed to be a dead end cobble street with only a few overflowing dustbins occupying it. And there, leaning against the wall, was Savage.


End file.
